Susan Forward’s book "Toxic Parents: Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life" gave me the insights and tools to start my anger and grief work and validated and empowered me to begin a journey into new territory and healing.

I had a fantasy that if I was good enough or successful enough my mother would love me. The moment of truth came at age 50 when my mother started yet another eight-year cycle of silence. There had been other long silences but, once again, it was devastating. Especially since they came without warning and reasons. This one blind-sided me as I thought my relationship with my mother had improved the past few years.

I suspect the silences have something to do with my childhood. My natural parents hated each other. My mother became pregnant at age 20 when my 32-year-old father said he was sterile. She left him in America and returned to South Africa shortly after my birth. Since my mother went to medical school in a another city she did not have time to bond with me.

I was seven when I first came to live with my mother, a physician, and stepfather, a lawyer. I ended up living with them for six out of the 21 years I lived in South Africa. Life with them from age seven till twelve was a nightmare. I felt like a constant irritation and seemed to do nothing right. Alone and afraid I felt like nobody’s child.

My mother told me once that I did not come from a broken home because I did not know my birth father. I said, "Mom, my greatest heartbreak has been your absence in my life. I had to adapt to the lives of others during my first seven years—a few months with you, then my (maternal) grandmother, (maternal) aunt, an orphanage and my grandmother again."

My sister and brother were born when I was twelve. My parents placed me in a boarding school. It solidified my role as an outsider. My parents said I had "problems" although I was popular with my peers and my grades were good.

My self-esteem plummeted as my relationship with my parents deteriorated. On a home visit from boarding school my parents called me a "prostitute" because I plucked my eyebrows and shaved my legs. It broke my heart. I cried and could not eat for days.

Since I left South Africa for America in 1972 my mother has only spoken to me for 13 years.

When I found a lump in my breast my mother called and told me that it was malignant and that I should marry my boyfriend to get on his medical insurance. At first I was touched by her concern. I later realized she did not want me to ask my dad for financial help. Luckily the lump was not malignant. My mother’s comments bothered me since I had my own insurance and she was aware of the power of suggestion. I wondered about some of her other statements. Why did she recommend I go to Zimbabwe for a week in the late 70s when they were at war? She must have known tourists were killed. Why did she say I tried to kill her in Bermuda when she fell off a moped and grazed her knees? Why did she tell my fiancé that I was "no catch" then tell me that he was too intelligent for me? Why did she tell my sister it was too dangerous to sail across the Atlantic but recommend I sail around the world?

I once received a letter from my mother’s alcoholic sister that said I was an evil, malicious person that purposely hurt my mother when I came to visit her in the 70s. This was the only reason I was given as to why my mother stopped talking to me the first eight years. The letter was devastating and made me wonder what my family really thought of me.

My mother answered my question when she wrote on my birthday 55^th birthday, "It is obvious to me that you are seething with jealousy, I have never had to reprimand or insult your sister. She goes out of her way to do good, not evil."

My mother was right—I was envious of her unconditional acceptance of my sister but I was heartbroken about being called "evil." However, I am blessed that the rest of the world does not see me this way. I draw strength from a quote from a friend of 30 years who told a newspaper reporter, "Niki is very open and totally honest. There is no guile or mincing of words. She has the ability to get along with people so bad situations don’t materialize. THERE’S A LACK OF MALICE IN HER. PEOPLE SENSE THAT AND IT DISARMS THEM."

Each time I thought I’d released the pain around my mother I received another challenge. To get a connecting flight to South Africa on a recent visit with my sister in America my mother and brother spent a night near my hometown. My mother stayed in her hotel room while my husband and I took my brother out to dinner. It was sad, as my mother and I had not had contact in years.

My relationship with my father was not much better at first. I was seven when I came into his life. My mother worked at night. My father seemed miserable the first year. He whipped me with a leather strap at night because I would not finish my food. After a number of months I hated him. He must have sensed it because he suddenly stopped.

My father apologized when I was sixteen. He said he realized he had been hard on me after his children were born. He admitted it bothered him that my mother was not a virgin and I was a constant reminder.

I came to love and accept him as my father. Although I lived in America and my Dad in South Africa our relationship grew over the years through our correspondence.

It was my father who came to my aid in America when I was unable to eat and looked anorexic. My husband and I had separated because he was having an affair. My mother was unmoved by my father’s picture of my emaciated body. Although my mother visited America she did not see me again until I visited her in South Africa a few years later. In later years I appreciated my father visiting me when he and my mother came to spend time with my sister in America.

My relationship with my father also had challenges. He defended my mother but would not tell me why she would not speak to me. He said she loved me. In frustration I told him, "Dad, the husband of the mother that drowned their four children also insisted that she loved her children. What good is a mother’s love if it is consistently cruel, unkind or kills? What good is a father’s love if it is unjust?"

My father said he loved his children equally. However, my parents spent many more weeks with my sister in America. My sister told me she and my brother have been given large sums of money for their houses, airfare and other things. I’d been given a couple of airline tickets as gifts over the years. When I confronted my father he said he could give his money to whomever he wanted. He also said he’d make it up to me in his will.

My father admitted he intercepted some of my letters to my mother in the past. He said he did not want unpleasantness. I’ve often wondered if my correspondence with my mother would have helped our relationship.

My half sister and her husband expressed great love for me when they needed my help moving to America. They dropped me as soon as they got established. My father blamed me for the rift. He said my letters to her contain certain innuendoes that would make him spitting mad. However, my feeling attacked by sister’s letters is a matter of interpretation. He said I should not feel threatened by my sister because she is merely expressing her opinions forcefully. However my sister has every right to feel criticized by my letter’s explosive words.

When I first wrote to my brother years ago he said he did not know what to say. He said, "It’s as if you never existed." He also stated, "I do not know anything about your character." I appreciated his honesty. I did not hear from him again till years later.

Although my relationship with my father continued to have bumps he remained a loyal friend and father till his death in January 2007. I admired his ability to love and accept all his family, friends, and me in spite of our differences and imperfections.

Not feeling accepted by my blood family lead to a constant search for a surrogate family. I became a therapist because I needed one. A fear of abandonment and a lack of belief in myself led to dysfunctional relationships in my adult life.

Confronting my family helped me feel more empowered and less fearful. The less I saw myself through their eyes the more I was able to let go. I realized I’d wanted my family’s love so desperately I’d allowed myself to be a scapegoat.

Taking responsibility for my choices and disconnecting from my family helped me move on.

Looking at my woundedness enabled me to accept and forgive my family and myself and find the courage to let go of the past. When I dropped my expectations of my family I discovered there was nothing to forgive. Without an enemy, without a story I felt more positive, peaceful and kind. Instead of being nobody’s child I became everybody’s child.

A Family Update

Bud, my husband and I flew to South Africa on Xmas day when we heard that my father, age 77, had inoperable lung cancer. The doctors did not recommend chemotherapy or radiation when he had a stroke that left him paralyzed on one side a week later. We were heartbroken when he was told he had only four to six months to live.

My Dad died on Jan. 20, 2007. We were at his bedside. He stopped breathing 20 minutes after Bud and I arrived. We had been traveling around South Africa for two weeks and were deeply honored to be with him when he made his transition.

I’m grateful that we had 10 days of quality time with my Dad in late December. We had some good talks and even played checkers. I also appreciated meeting and hearing the stories of the many people whose lives he touched.

It was a heartbreaking shock to return and find my Dad on his deathbed. The blessing is that he was at home surrounded by family and friends including my mother, my brother and his wife and a childhood friend, who was also close to him. There wasn’t a dry eye—even the two nurses cried.

The two weeks with my mother was also good. She had only one negative, paranoid episode shortly after we arrived. She was open, upbeat, positive, appreciative and kind—qualities I’d not seen much of in the past.

My mother’s dementia seems to affect only certain brain functions such as short-term memory, the ability to count, deal with mechanical things and to speak and read. She takes care of herself and her house well and loves to garden and to listen to classical music. She told me repeatedly that it was sad about my Dad’s death and she did not know how she was going to get through it. Bud and I took her to a nearby botanical garden the day after my Dad died and she seemed to have a good time.

Our trip to South Africa was extraordinary thanks to my brother and his wife’s help and hospitality.

I shall miss my father’s family updates in his monthly fax.


Susan Forward’s book "Toxic Parents: Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life" gave me the insights and tools to start my anger and grief work and validated and empowered me to begin a journey into new territory and healing.

Forward says that healing is most effective when you proceed down the double track of changing self-defeating behaviors and disconnecting from traumas from the past. The goal of the book is to reverse the balance of power in your relationship with your toxic parents.

Forward says all parents are deficient at times but Toxic Parents have consistently harmful effects. Focusing on their own problems Toxic Parents expect kids to take care of them, turning their children into mini-adults. Unable to control their own deep-seated rage, they blame their children. They control their children via guilt and manipulation. They are extraordinarily insensitive to both the pain they inflict and the lasting damage they do. They overtly or subtly abuse their children with constant put-downs and rob them of self-confidence. They may abuse alcohol or drugs and are mired in denial.